


Put My Glory Days Behind Me

by cablesscutie



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: DAD BOB, F/M, Gen, Zimmerparents, bob is a really good dad, incredibly indulgent fluff, soft baby jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 11:50:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10830687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cablesscutie/pseuds/cablesscutie
Summary: Bob had been certain that he would never love life more than he did playing in the NHL.  Until he retired from it.OrBad Bob Zimmermann's first day of retirement.





	Put My Glory Days Behind Me

When he and Alicia first came to the decision that it was best if Bob didn’t renew his contract and they moved back to Montreal, he’d been certain that the restlessness would be unbearable and he’d be going completely screwy and debating putting himself up for free agency the next season. Back then, he’d thought he was going to be what Jagr is now - a legend made all the moreso by his adamant refusal to just stop already. Bob had been certain that he would never love life more than he did playing in the NHL. Until he retired from it. 

His first day of retirement begins in absolute misery, but a familiar kind of misery. As soon as he rolls over and the line of sunlight through the curtains hits his head like a physical blow, he knows it’s going to be a rough morning. He is the kind of spectacularly hungover that he’s come to associate with Stanley Cups and bachelor parties. When Alicia hears the groan he lets out as he flops onto his back and tugs a pillow over his head, she lets out a hum in a tone that he can tell means she wants to chirp him but is willing to give him a day of wallowing before giving him shit for it. She pats him on the chest and then he feels the bed shift as she slides out from under the covers, the door opening and closing again behind her. He hopes desperately that she’s going to make coffee, and that maybe, just because she’s amazing and the universe is just too good to him sometimes, she might bring him a mug to sooth his poor aching head. 

Almost as soon as she leaves, he hears another door open and slam back closed, thrown carelessly back against the frame. It’s followed by the unmistakable thundering of Jack’s feet on the hall carpet, chasing after his mother. Eight years old, he’s still up with the sun and looking for something to do, perpetually frustrated with his mother’s insistence that he stay upstairs until someone is awake to supervise him. 

“Bonjour, Maman!” the call reverberates off the walls. Bob grunts as the noise sends a spike of pain through his skull, but he smiles a little to himself anyway. 

“Shhhh,” Alicia hushes him. “Papa’s still trying to sleep. We have to be quiet.”

“But I wanted Papa to take me fishing, he promised me we’d go to the lake soon.”

“Well soon might have to be tomorrow, baby. He’s a little under the weather. Why don’t we let Papa rest and we can go watch cartoons. And later we can go to the Biodome and see the polar exhibit again, alright?” Jack sounds more subdued, but not unhappy as he agrees,

“Okay,” and plods down the stairs. Alicia follows, the steps creaking softly under her more graceful footsteps, and Bob is so lucky. 

It’s a thought he has again when, a couple minutes later, Alicia is back, and Bob removes the pillow over his face to see her juggling a glass of water and a mug of steaming coffee, a bottle of advil tucked under her arm. He sits up, letting out a little grunt as his stiff muscles protest and Alicia smirks, as if she’s reading his mind. 

“Mon ange,” he sighs, gratefully accepting the pain meds and water. He shakes out a couple of pills and swallows them with a few gulps of water. Alicia swaps the water glass with the mug and sets the advil and water aside on the nightstand. When Bob lifts an arm, she tucks her feet up on the mattress and fits herself against his side. He closes his eyes and allows himself to enjoy the sweetness of his creamy, over-sugared coffee, the press of Alicia’s forehead against his temple soothing the ache, the soft fabric of her pajama top under his fingertips. “You’re too good to me.” She kisses his cheek, freshly shaved after the game last night.

“I figured today you could do with a bit of coddling.” He keeps sipping at his coffee, Alicia breathing beside him and the sounds of Jack’s cartoons playing on the television in the living room. After his coffee is drained, he sets the mug on the other bedside table and pulls Alicia more fully into his arms, buries his nose in her hair. Bob is about half asleep again when Jack knocks on the bedroom door. Alicia extricates herself from Bob’s arms, smiling ruefully. “I think that’s my cue to head back downstairs.” He wants her to come back to bed, but he lets go. 

Only when she opens the door, Jack isn’t making his twisted up impatient face. He’s holding the little tray they bring him soup and grilled cheese on when he’s sick, and on it is a glass of orange juice and a plate of toaster waffles, bottle of maple syrup beside it.

“Well, what’s this?” Alicia asks, smiling down at their son. 

“I made Papa breakfast.” He shifts on his feet, eyes flicking around Alicia to where Bob is sitting up against the headboard.

“That’s very sweet, Jack. I think that’ll make him feel a lot better.” She steps aside to let him in, brushing her hand through his floppy black hair as he passes. 

“I made you breakfast,” Jack tells Bob, holding out the tray. Bob’s smile is huge and ridiculous as he accepts it and settles it on his lap. Nobody has ever been happier to see a pile of Eggos. He scoots over and pats the bed beside him for Jack to hop up, and Alicia settles back in on Jack’s other side. She flicks on the TV on top of their dresser and turns it to Jack’s shows so he doesn’t get antsy and leave. Bob smiles at Alicia over Jack’s head as Jack leans against his father’s side. He ends up drinking most of the orange juice while Bob demolishes the waffles. 

Bob thinks about how upset he was last night, at the thought of preseason coming and going without him, of watching his teammates skate from his living room. In the moment, it had felt like such a great loss, an absence of a purpose he’d always been so sure of. But now he thinks about his promise to take Jack fishing tomorrow, and how in a couple weeks it would be Jack’s summer vacation. How he’d have two months of taking him to the beach, on hikes, exploring the city, and at the end of it he wouldn’t have to miss Jack’s first day of school for a morning skate. Alicia could finally take up all the projects he’d seen her eyeing longingly since Jack started full day school, because Bob would be here. From now on he was going to be around to shuttle Jack to hockey practice, and pack his lunches for school, and drop him off at the doors instead of just leaving quick notes for Alicia to pack in with his sandwich. With Alicia leaning over to kiss the extra syrup off his lips and Jack nodding off on his shoulder, Bob knew with perfect certainty that he was not going to miss the NHL.


End file.
